


The Mourning After

by onlyhereforthesmut



Series: Bruises and Bitemarks [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood! Blood! Gallons of the stuff!, F/M, Hurt/Comfort (sort of), I Will Go Down With This Ship, I am going down with this ship, Mental Breakdown, Past Rape/Non-con, Population: Us, Revenge, Send Help I'm Drowning, Trauma, Trying to Cope, Welcome to angst-vill, ain't no hatred like self-hatred 'cus self-hatred don't stop, and by "cope" I mean "murder the person who traumatized them", and murder they do, but like it's talked about in a concerningly poetic way, no seriously this is just angst, oh boy bottled emotions!, still kinda graphic though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:13:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25419004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyhereforthesmut/pseuds/onlyhereforthesmut
Summary: Crane and Ivy have to cope with what happened.WARNING: This work contains decently graphic descriptions of trauma and panic attacks! Please, please, go read something else if that bothers you!
Relationships: Jonathan Crane & Pamela Isley, Jonathan Crane/Pamela Isley
Series: Bruises and Bitemarks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1841104
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I got way too invested in a sex pollen fic I wrote and wanted to expand on what that kind of experience would do to people. This idea is explored wonderfully by periwinklepromise (who I may or may not have stolen the idea from in the first place) in their work, When The Sun Is Out(I Love Her And She's Loving Me).

It was loud. People were streaming from prison cells, yelling as they charged for freedom. Jonathan Crane rushed through the crowd, ducking and weaving towards the nearest exit. He was followed closely by Poison Ivy. Both of them were running like their lives depended on it. 

It had been her idea to slam the “release all” button when they raced past a control center after making a break for it. After all the experiments they had been subjected to, the least they could do was cause as much damage as possible. The two of them burst into the main hallway, the staff scattering as Ivy fired her stolen gun. Inmates poured out behind them, scrambling for freedom as Crane skidded to a halt in front of an emergency exit door and kicked it open. The fire alarm blared as they rushed into the open, adding to the confusion. They just ran. 

Crane had too much adrenaline pumping through him to pay attention to his aching muscles or the scrapes he got scaling the prison wall. Ivy was too focused on getting out to remember when her gun ran out of bullets or how many blocks they had run. Neither of them stopped to consider why they stuck together as they ducked into an alleyway. 

She was breathing hard as she leaned against the wall, the energy wearing off. Police sirens wailed in the distance. “Where’s your nearest safe house?” Crane asked, out of breath. “Mine’s across town and I don’t think we can make it that far.” “Not too far, actually” she wheezed back. They took off again, Ivy leading him through a maze back streets and up a fire escape to a small apartment. He checked to make sure they weren't followed as she pried open the window. As it slid open, the smell of earth hit them like a brick to the face. 

The apartment was full of plants, almost to bursting. They lined the walls and wound around what little furniture there was, giving the impression that they had just walked into a forest. Crane grounded inwardly. Maybe he should have taken his chances getting across town, but no. She probably felt too guilty over what happened to hurt him, so he was safest here for now. Besides, it would just be until the police gave up looking for them. 

“I don’t suppose you have a shower?”

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

He had turned the water up as hot as it would go. It stung as it rolled over the angry marks on his back, but he didn’t care. He had already scrubbed his skin raw trying to get the smell of sex off him, and now he was just standing under the water trying not to think. Her moans echoed in his head, drowning out the sounds of the water hitting the floor of the shower. He could still feel the warmth of her hands on his back, digging under his skin and tearing into his bones. 

Crane shuddered as the walls started closing in around him. He sank to the floor, digging his nails into his arms, and all he could see was _her_ . Everything was uncomfortable, the walls were uncomfortable, the floor was uncomfortable, his _skin_ was uncomfortable. He wanted to tear it off and run. He wanted to curl into such a tight ball that he disappeared from existence.The water beat down on him as he pulled his knees to his chest. He heard his heart pounding in his head as he started to hyperventilate. Everything was _wrong_.

He didn’t know how long it lasted. He just sat under the running water until his breathing slowed and the idea of moving became bearable. Crane slowly uncurled himself, stood up, and shut off the water. As the steam cleared from the room, he made the mistake of looking in the mirror. Bruises covered his neck, traveling from his adam's apple down to his collarbone. He grimaced and turned away, stifling the wave of repulsion that welled up in his chest. 

He slowly dressed in his prison clothes. They were dirty, and he knew the collar wouldn’t be high enough to cover his marks, but he didn’t have any other options. Besides, it didn’t matter. She had probably already seen them anyway. 

Ivy was on the phone when he left the bathroom. She glanced up when he entered the living room, but she didn’t stop talking. It sounded like she was ordering food. He moved past her to the kitchenette. He needed something to do with his hands. The plants kept him from opening a few of the cabinets, but it didn’t really matter as most of them were empty. He did, however, find some instant coffee.

“Do you need anything?” Crane turned. She was standing in the doorway with a pad of paper in her hands. “Do I need anything” he echoed. “I’m making a shopping list,” She said. She wasn’t fully looking at him as she spoke, instead focusing on the wall just beside his head. “Going out probably isn’t the best idea right now-” “I know” she cut him off, “I have a plan.” 

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

It was about twenty minutes till their food came. The knock cut through the painful silence of the apartment, startling them both. Ivy got up and fished a tube of lipstick out of a drawer, applying it as she opened the door. The teenager at the door stared up at her as she grabbed him by the back of the head and kissed him. His eyes glazed over as she pulled away, letting her take the bag of food from his hand. She pressed the shopping list into his hand, giving him instructions as she pushed him back into the hall. 

Crane looked away as Ivy shut the door and put the bag on the coffee table. The sight of her kissing the delivery boy had not helped silence the thoughts rickashaying around his head. They ate in silence. She still wouldn’t make eye contact with him and he didn’t blame her. The kid came back about half an hour later. He grinned like an idiot as she praised him for helping her, and obediently ran off when she told him to go home and forget he was ever here. 

Crane got a change of clothes.

Ivy got Plan B. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ivy lay awake in the dark. She couldn’t sleep. She wouldn’t sleep. Every position brought back bad memories. When she was on her back she could feel his mouth on her neck as he leaned over her, groaning as he pushed into her. When she lay on her side she could feel his hands dig into her hips as he panted in her ear, his hips keeping a steady beat. When she lay on her stomach she could feel his breath catch and his chest stiffen under her as he filled her. Nausea flooded her senses.

She pushed herself over the edge of the bed and charged for the bathroom, barely getting to the toilet before she vomited. Everything tasted like death. She heaved again, shaking as she tried to repel the feeling of him out of her body. Her eyes were watering and she didn’t know if she was crying or just tearing up but she couldn’t see straight and everything was dark and distorted.

She had been numb since they left Arkham. The world had lost color and she had just gone along with it because it kept the memories at bay. But now it was gone and everything came crashing in on her all at once. She retched, the contents her stomach long abandoned as she tried not to think about how he was sleeping just twenty feet away in the living room and how he had made little noises in her ear whenever she had bitten down on his neck. Now she  _ was _ crying, hot tears cutting down her face as she rested her head against the wall. 

The plants cried with her. They twisted and writhed, climbing furniture and engulfing everything they could find. Crane was making his third cup of coffee when a vine latched onto his leg. He lurched backwards, hitting the counter as he shook it off. Panic surged through him. Maybe he was wrong, maybe she was going to kill him. 

He launched himself towards her bedroom door, forcing it open as he fought off the vines climbing his legs. She wasn’t in her room. Fuck, where was she? He scanned the room. There. The door to the bathroom was open. 

Ivy spun on her knees as a shadow filled the doorway. She couldn’t see his face in the light from the kitchen. He was saying something but she couldn’t hear him over the blood pounding in her head. 

Vines were climbing his legs as he tried to get her to snap out of it. “Ivy!” He could see the tears dripping down her face and the way her chest was heaving and he didn’t know what to do. “Ivy!” The plants were at his ribs now, crushing the air out of his lungs. “Ivy!” He was going to die like this and he hated her for it the way he hated himself and everything that had happened between them. “Pamela!” 

Everything stopped. She locked eyes with him for the first time since they had left that god-forsaken room. For a terrifying moment he thought she was going to keep crushing him, but the vines slithered off of him and retreated into the shadows. “I thought you were sleeping.” Her voice was thick and raspy at the same time. “I...couldn’t.” Crane didn’t want to admit that her voice filled his head every time he drifted close to sleep. “Me neither.” 

It was silent for a while. He just stood awkwardly in the doorway like he didn’t know what to do with himself as she rained in her uneven breathing. She refused to break eye contact with him. She was afraid that if she did, she would break down again. Ironic that the man that reminded her of those horrible things was now grounding her. 

Crane did, eventually, move from the doorway. He was shit at dealing with his own emotions, and he definitely didn’t know how to deal with anyone else’s. However, he did remember one of the lectures from his time getting his doctorate: de-escalation. When he came back into the bathroom, Ivy looked up like she hadn’t expected him to come back. “I made coffee”


	3. Chapter 3

It became a ritual for them. Whenever either of them couldn’t sleep, which was always, they would make coffee and sit at the kitchen counter. He could see her injuries clearer in the overhead lights. She had less bruises than him, but he could make out the deep teeth marks on her shoulder where he had bit down. Guilt reared its ugly head. He drowned it in his coffee. 

They always sat in silence. There was nothing to talk about. Well, there  _ was _ but neither of them were willing to broach the subject. She hated the way he just stared into nothing as the hours passed. She wanted to be mad at him, she wanted to believe that he wasn’t as affected as she was and that she could blame him for what happened. She couldn’t. Both of them were as innocent as they were guilty. She drowned her thoughts in her coffee. 

Neither of them had any concrete sleep schedule. They stayed awake until they physically couldn’t. They slept until they were jerked awake by nightmares. Every day they checked the news for police activity. Every day they were told “the hunt continues”.

Crane wanted to break something. He hated being stuck here. He wanted to be in his lab, to work, to have something to do with his hands, to be able to sleep again without remembering how she felt clenched around him. He hated how she affected him the most. Whenever she made an unexpected noise he jumped, whenever she spoke in a low tone he flinched, whenever he saw her injuries bile built in his throat. One she had accidentally brushed against him and he almost hit her. 

Ivy didn’t like it either. The apartment was too small, she never felt like she could be alone. Often, especially late at night, she found herself fighting the urge to jump out the nearest window and just run. She hated having to kiss the delivery people that brought them food. Every time she brushed her lips against one of their mouths she wanted to either vomit or retreat so far into herself that no one would ever reach her. She hated that she couldn’t bring herself to talk about what happened. She hated that she  _ wanted _ to talk about it.

It was three in the morning when she forced herself to say something. “How did you know what to do?” Crane flicked his eyes in her direction as he took a sip of his coffee. He watched her like she was holding a gun to his head. Her skin crawled as she made herself continue, “When we were...drugged. How did you know what to do?” He swallowed, looking away from her. “I am not unfamiliar with adult media.” 

“Ah.” 

They sat in silence for a while. “How badly are you bruised?” Ivy glanced over at him. She hadn’t really expected him to answer her question, not to mention asking one himself. “Not too badly, just some on the hips and the neck.” She left out how the bite on her shoulder still hadn’t faded completely, even after a week. “What about you?” Crane took a long sip of his drink. “You can see most of it from here.” Most of his bruises were starting to yellow, but she could still make out a few that hadn’t started to heal at all. She grimaced. 

“...how much do you remember?”

Her words hung in the air. She regretted them as soon as they left her mouth. He stiffened.

“...none of it” 

Anger flooded her veins. “Bullshit.” He glanced up at her, startled. “I see the way you writhe in your sleep. You spend hours just staring into nothing, looking like you just watched yourself die.” He opened his mouth and closed it again. “What?” Ivy snapped, looking him straight in the face, “What were you going to say? That I wouldn’t get it? That I wouldn’t understand? I am just as fucking traumatized as you are  _ Jonathan _ . Every time I close my eyes all I can see is you. I know how your hands feel on my hips, I know what your mouth tastes like,  _ I know how you feel inside of me _ ” She was gripping her cup so hard her knuckles went white.

He wasn’t there anymore. His eyes were still pointed at her, but he was staring through her. It was like he was watching the scene from outside his body. He could dimly hear her start to yell, but it wasn’t tangible. Maybe if he kept floating away, he wouldn’t come back down. Would it matter? 

He was jerked back to reality. Sound flooded in around him as he realized that she had slapped him. “-dissociate on me you bastard! Do you think I’m comfortable with this conversation? No! But we are going to talk about this like civilized adults because _neither of us can function like this_ _. _ ” 

He put his head in his hands and stared down at his cold coffee. What was left of his rational thoughts knew she was right. The rest of his brain screamed at him to  _ run, fucking run _ . His mouth was dry as he forced himself to breathe normally. 

“Okay”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: In doing research for this, I learned that women are more likely to develop PTSD than men. That didn't make it's way into the story, but I still find it interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took longer, I ran into more writer's block than usual. For some inexplicable reason it's harder for me to wright angst than smut. Who knew.

They must have talked for hours. He felt like his chest had been ripped open and she was watching his organs pulse in real time. She felt like every inch of her soul was being scrutinized. Neither of them could stop. It all just came leaking out. 

Neither Crane nor Ivy slept much better after the talk. Nightmares still haunted them, but being awake got more bearable. The flashes of vivid memory faded into a dull background ache, and being alone with their thoughts became less terrifying. She felt nauseous less often. He found it easier to look at what was left of his bruises. They still spent most nights at the kitchen counter. 

It was a couple of days later when he approached Ivy with some interesting information. “Dr. Hugo Strange” She glanced up from her plants. “That name sounds familiar.” “He’s the head of Arkham Asylum” Crane replied, pointing at the newspaper article he’d found, “ _ He _ would be the one to green light any “experiments” taking place.” She pursed her lips. “Well then, we have our target.”

- - - - - - - - - - - -

In the end, he left through the window they had come in. Seeing that no other convicts had made any appearances, the police hunt had died down enough for him to make it to his lab. Still, Ivy let him take both of their stolen guns. Leaving felt...strange. The apartment had started to feel like it’s own dimension; a bad fever dream he had been stuck in for three weeks that he had somehow gotten used to. Hitting the outside air reminded him that the world hadn’t stopped turning while he had been in there with her. 

Luckily, Crane wasn’t recognized as he made his way across the city. Going during the day had been a risky choice, but both he and Ivy agreed that he had a better chance of getting away from police officers than Batman. His lab was just how he left it, with no signs that anyone had broken in and stolen his work. Good. He started working almost immediately. The fear toxins he had now were all well and good, but he wanted something  _ special _ for dear Dr. Hugo. Besides, having something to focus on felt good. 

Ivy’s apartment felt strange without another person in it. On one hand, it was nice not feeling like she was going to be jumped whenever he wasn’t in her sights. On the other hand, midnight coffee was much lonelier. Even without him there she still wasn’t sleeping well. When the intrusive thoughts got  _ really _ bad she would sit between her plants and imagine how the blood would drain from Hugo’s face when he realized she was going to kill him. It always calmed her. 

She got a text from Crane a few days later. Getting to his lab wasn’t hard, especially now that the police hunt had officially been called off. He already had most of his costume on when he answered the door. He somehow looked more tired and less tired than the last time she saw him. “Do you have your mask?” He asked, shutting the door behind her. “Yes” she replied, holding up the green gas mask she brought with her. They weren't going to risk being gassed again. 

“You’ve been busy,” she remarked, glancing around the room. His lab was a mess, with paper and equipment strewn everywhere. “I was inspired” was his only response as he pocketed a vile sitting on one of the tables. 

She stepped into a side room to change. She was most of the way dressed when she noticed that she was in his bedroom. Books overflowed from a bookshelf in the corner, spilling onto a side table next to his bed. The bed itself was untouched. She wondered if he had even tried sleeping. He was adjusting his mask when she stepped back into the main room. 

“Ready?”

“Let’s go”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a violence and death in it, so be warned.

The first step of the plan was simple: distraction. Something big and destructive that would keep the authorities(and Batman) occupied. 

Like a hospital. 

The two villains stood on a rooftop overlooking their target. It was a big building, with people buzzing around even at this time of night. Perfect. Ivy stepped forwards and raised her arms. She could feel the nearby plants answer, reaching out as her power coursed through them. Taking a deep breath, she raised her arms. The ground started to shake.

The asphalt bulged as a plant the size of a car emerged from the ground. It smashed through the hospital as it grew, forcing itself through as many walls and windows as possible. Screams erupted from the building as more vines surged out of the ground and tore at the infrastructure. People poured out of the doors, scrambling to get away as the plants wound around more and more of the hospital. Ivy smiled to herself as she watched the scene unfold. She always loved watching nature take back what was its. Police sirens wailed in the distance as she stepped back from the edge of the roof and turned to Crane. “Impressive” he drawled from under his mask. 

The second step of the plan was slightly harder: get to Hugo Strange. He hadn’t been seen coming in or out of his penthouse for weeks, and nobody had even seen him leave Arkham Asylum. They had no choice but to assume he was hiding out there. 

Crane tried to rain in his spiraling thoughts as they approached the building. It was going to be fine. They were just going to get in and get out. They were  _ not _ going to be captured. They were not going to be locked in that room again and they were not going to be injected with that chemical. He was not going to have the image of her riding him seared into his brain until the day he finally died. Everything was going to be  _ fine _ . 

The courtyard of the asylum was crawling with guards. There were always guards of course, but not usually this many. Crane palmed a fear gas grenade as he peaked over the wall surrounding the building. Ivy caught his eye as he crouched back down. She pulled the straps of her gas mask tighter and nodded. Only her eyes gave away how uncomfortable she was being here again. He pulled the pin and let it fly. 

Shouts rose from the other side of the wall as the grenade hissed to life. Screams joined them as the toxins started to take effect. Crane vaulted over the wall as the panic started in earnest, Ivy landing behind him. He threw another grenade over his shoulder as the two of them barged through the nearest door, smoke trailing them as they descended on a startled doctor. 

Ivy grabbed the woman by the collar and shoved her against the nearest wall. “Where” she growled through her mask, “is Hugo Strange?” “H-h-he’s in his office” came the shaky reply. Crane loomed over Ivy’s shoulder. “Where  _ exactly _ ?” “I-i-in the basement” the doctor whimpered, “T-t-t-the door with no number” “Thanks” Ivy muttered as she dropped the woman to the floor. 

The two villains had expected extra guards when they broke into Arkham. What they had not expected was a squad of heavenly armed men in gas masks guarding the basement stairs. Crane and Ivy skidded around a corner, shots whistling past them. “Use one of your grenades!” she snapped as she ran. “They have  _ masks _ ” Crane shot back, “Why don’t you just summon some plants?!” “Do you have any idea how hard it is to concentrate while dodging bullets?!?!” He glanced behind them. The guards were closing fast. Shit. 

He grabbed Ivy’s wrist and pulled them around the next corner and up against the wall. She involuntarily flinched when he touched her. He didn’t hold on a second longer than he had to. Adrenaline smothered their emotions as boots thundered down the hall.

As the first guard rounded the corner, Crane dived at him, tackling the man to the ground. Ivy leaped at the next guard, kneeing him in the stomach as the other four caught up to them. She threw an upper cut at the next guard as the first guard doubled over. Crane slammed his victim’s head against the floor and flung himself at one of the approaching people, kicking him in the chest and knocking him backwards. The butt of a gun slammed into his face and he reeled back, almost tripping over the knocked out guard on the floor. 

As Ivy fought, she reached out for plants. The asylum had next to no plant life (one of the reasons she hated it so much) but there had to be  _ something _ \- She doubled over as someone hit her in the ribs. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Crane knock a gun out of a guards hand and punch him in the teeth. Come to think of it, a lot of the squad had dropped their guns. Ivy straightened up just in time to see a guard descend on her. She tried to dodge to the side, but he tackled her to the ground. Her legs curled under his torso and she pushed up, kicking him out of hitting distance, and lunged for the nearest weapon on the floor. 

A guard’s fist collided with Crane as he tried to duck away, hitting him in the shoulder. Gunfire rang across the hall as he recoiled, and he turned to see Ivy discharging a stolen gun into a man's torso. He scanned the floor as the guard he was fighting swung again. As the fist went flying past him, Crane lunged and snatched a weapon off the ground. Bullets flew as he and Ivy took out the rest of the guards, one grazing his arm as they tried to fight back. Her nose was dripping blood onto her gas mask. He was sure his jaw was bruised. They headed for the stairs. 

The stairwell was eerily silent as they descended. Crane was hyper aware of his footsteps. It was quiet enough that he could hear the vile and the needles in his pocket clinking together. Rage simmered in his gut as he continued down. Ivy was uneasy beside him. It was quiet enough that she could hear his muffled breathing and the little voice in her head that screamed that something bad was going to happen. She crushed it. When they reached the bottom, they were greeted by a hallway with rows of doors. The one at the end of the hall was unmarked. 

The door slammed open as Crane collided with it, hitting the wall with an audible crack as he and Ivy entered the room. A desk sat at the far side of the room, complete with a high backed chair facing away from them. The back wall was covered in monitors, washing the room with the distorted light of security camera feeds. As they watched, the chair swiveled around to reveal a man in a long white coat. “Ah, the lovers” Hugo Strange grinned, “How nice to see you again.” Anger boiled through Ivy’s blood. “Save it” she snarled, stalking towards him. The doctor just smiled wider as she vaulted over his desk to grab him by the collar. Crane loomed behind her in the shadows, his eyes burning holes into the man in the chair. 

Ivy hit Strange in the face, one, twice, hard enough that she could feel his nose crack under her fist. His grin was unwavering as she gripped his shoulders and slammed him against the back of his chair. “If you kill me, you’ll never get my formula” Strange smirked as her knuckles met his eye socket. “Think about how much more  _ powerful _ you could be with that strong of an aphrodisiac” “I don’t care” Ivy growled. She swung her leg up into his jaw with a satisfying crunch. Blood leaked from the corners of his mouth. She swung again. “I don’t want your drug” Hit. “I don’t  _ need _ your drug” Hit. “and when you die” Hit. “It’s dying with you” Hit. The smile drained out of his eyes as she stood over him, blood and saliva staining his collar. 

“May I?” Crane growled from behind her. Ivy wiped her bloody knuckles on Strange’s coat and stepped back. Crane rammed his elbow into Strange’s chest, reveling in the pained noise the smaller man made. “Dr. Crane” Strange gurgled through the blood in his mouth, trying to smirk “I don’t understand why you’re so upset” Crane responded by kneeing him in the jaw. “You’re not a virgin anymore!” the mad scientist choked “and you got to sleep with  _ the Poison Ivy _ . Men would kill to be in your-” Crane grabbed him by the throat and pulled him to eye level. “Shut. up.” he snarled. Sparks cascaded to the floor as Crane rammed Strange into the wall of monitors. Glass dug into his arms, painfully holding him in place as Crane produced a needle and a vile from his pocket. “Tell me  _ Dr. Strange _ ” he sneered, “What do you fear?”

Hugo Strange died slowly, the special formula made sure of that. Crane and Ivy watched as he writhed and screamed. He screamed about the monsters he had made, hallucinating that they were tearing into him. He screamed about the dead crawling back for revenge. He screamed until his throat gave out and he didn’t have the strength to thrash anymore. He died with a whimper. 


	6. Chapter 6

The hallways were lit with red when Crane and Ivy came out of the stairwell. An alarm was blaring over the loudspeakers and someone somewhere was yelling about lockdown protocols. Crane cursed silently, they had been here too long. Next to him, Ivy cocked her stolen gun. They had known that getting out of Arkham Asylum would be harder than getting in, it was designed that way, but Crane was out of fear grenades by the time they reached the exit and neither of them came out of the ensuing firefight unharmed. It was only through some miracle that they didn’t die.

As Ivy’s feet crossed the asylum’s property line she felt the familiar sound of her babies calling to her. God it felt good to be out of those walls. She lashed out, and vines erupted from the ground, entangling the guards and police officers that were chasing them. Several vehicles crashed into a building trying to avoid them. Crane let out a cackle of victory as they ran, the glint in his eyes through his mask telling her he was grinning almost as wide as she was. Both of their excitement died when they saw a silhouette swooping towards Arkham. 

Batman.

Fuck.

Ivy swerved into the nearest alleyway, Crane hot on her heels. They ran deeper into the network of backstreets, only stopping when they were sure they weren't being followed. Ivy leaned against a wall. Her exhaustion was starting to catch up with her, not to mention her injuries. She glanced at Crane. He was panting too. 

After all that had happened, Ivy has seriously considered burning down her apartment hideout. The only reason she hadn’t was that it was too convenient to have a spot near Arkham. Still, she hadn’t planned on coming back in a long time. The air still smelled like cheap coffee. Crane tore his mask off as soon as he was inside. Sweat mingled with the blood from a gash on his forehead, and one side of his jaw was swollen. He ran a hand through his matted hair and started to peel off his coat. 

Ivy left her gas mask on the kitchen counter. Her noise had stopped bleeding a while ago, but she could feel that her lip was swollen and moving her head too fast made the world spin. That was, of course, not mentioning the gash on her arm that dripped blood onto the box of emergency medical supplies she kept in the closet, or the wound on her thigh where a bullet grazed her, but they were slightly less disorienting. Unfortunately, by the time she put the box down on the coffee table, the pain had started to sink in. 

Next to her on the couch, Crane had got his coat off to reveal a rather nasty laceration on his shoulder. He was trying to judge how deep it was, but the angle was bad and his torn, bloody shirt was in the way. Eventually he gave up, and started fishing in the medical box for disinfectants. Ivy sat down next to him as he pulled out a package of alcohol wipes and some gauze pads. He looked back down at his ruined shirt, sighed, and pulled out a pair of scissors too.

They didn’t really speak as they cleaned wounds, just the occasional “pass the gauze” or a hiss through teeth as the disinfectants hit skin. Ivy’s leg wound wasn’t bad enough to need stitches, but her arm wasn’t as lucky. The cut wasn’t fatal, but it was bleeding too much to just be bandaged. She bit the inside of her mouth as she pushed the needle through her skin, regretting it immediately as her head throbbed. Crane raised an eyebrow at her as she put her head in her unbloodied hand. “Headache” she said as the pain started to die down. “Blood loss?” He asked. “Probably”. He hummed in response, setting down the bloody cloth he had been holding to his shoulder and peering at her arm. “You think you can do better?” Ivy asked, not really meaning the slight animosity in her voice. “If you mean not passing out, then yes” came his smooth reply. If he was in pain, which he probably was, he was hiding it remarkably well. 

She flopped back against the couch and held out her arm to him, cursing herself for the sudden movement as her head spun again. Crane moved closer to Ivy. He hesitantly wrapped a hand under her forearm to stabilize it and picked up the needle. As he started stitching, Crane found himself with the urge to be gentle. Every time Ivy inhaled sharply or suppressed a flinch, he got the urge to make sure she was alright. It was...strange. 

Ivy watched him work. It hurt of course, but there was something mesmerizing about it. Her blood stained his fingers, smudging onto his glasses when he adjusted them and collecting under his fingernails when he tied the thread off. Her head was back to manageable levels of dizziness by the time he took his hand from her arm. It surprised her to realize that she missed the contact. Strange. 

Ivy sat up and glanced over at Crane. He had moved back to the other side of the couch and was trying to cut away the ruined fabric on his shoulder to get better access to the wound. The bleeding seemed to have stopped, but it was too deep to just bandage up. He glanced up at her. “Think you can do better?” he mimicked, voice laced with sarcasm. “If you mean actually being able to  _ see _ the cut, then yes” Ivy smirked back. He raised an eyebrow, but held out the scissors. 

Ivy took the scissors and shifted towards him. He watched her blankly as she tried to find an angle that let her get at him without having to shift constantly. In the end, she realized she would have to all but straddle him. Crane made a “hm” noise when she pointed this out to him. On one hand, he could keep trying to patch himself up and risk infection or worse, on the other hand…

He leaned back and let Ivy climb onto his lap. She was tense. He was too. As Ivy cut a jagged circle in his shirt, Crane slowly became aware of the heat radiating off her body. She was warm in a way he didn’t remember, her chest inches from his. He could feel her breath ghost over his face as she turned to put the scissors down and grab the needle. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. 

Ivy turned back to his shoulder with the threaded needle. She could almost feel his thin chest rising and falling against her. His stiffened slightly as she made the first stitch, his eyes briefly flicking over to her as she pulled the thread through his flesh. She kept her eyes purposely locked on his shoulder. Ivy shifted slightly as she worked, tilting her head so her long hair fell off her shoulder and neck. His breath ghosted over the exposed skin.

Crane made himself stare at the wall. The situation was strange enough without him watching her. She did look strangely peaceful though, with her eyes half lidded and her lips slightly parted as she stitched his shoulder closed. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face with a bloody hand, smearing bright blood on her forehead. One of his fingers absently brushed her leg. 

Ivy lurched at the unexpected contact. Crane cursed and clamped a hand over his wound as the movement yanked at his stitches. She clapped a bloody hand over her mouth. “I am so sorry, you startled me” “‘s fine” Crane growled through gritted teeth, “shouldn’t have touched you” Ivy leaned back on his knees as she waited for him to move his hand from his shoulder. He did eventually sit back again to let her lean over him again, this time with his hands tucked stiffly at his sides. 

Ivy picked up the needle again and then stopped. “Listen, I’m almost done, but it’s gonna take longer if you don’t relax your shoulders.” “It will also take longer if I startle you again” the man under her retorted. Ivy sighed, “fine, ok, just...” she ran her fingers through her hair, staining it a darker shade or red, “you can put your hands on my thighs if that makes you feel better.” The exasperation in her voice did nothing to stop Crane’s heartbeat from jumping. Tentatively, he placed one hand and then the other on her lower thighs. He felt her muscles move under her skin as she leaned back over him and started stitching again. 

They only stayed in that position for a few minutes, but it felt like much longer. Ivy tied the thread off, trying to ignore how warm his hands were on his legs. As she leaned back to grab some gauze and medical tape, his fingers dug into her slightly, keeping her from shifting off his lap entirely. For the first time in a month, she didn’t hate that he was touching her. Crane didn’t seem to hate it either. His fingers spread across her skin as she bandaged his shoulder.

Crane watched as Ivy sat back on his knees again, finally done with his shoulder. His eyes flicked over his face, lingering on the bruise forming on her forehead and landing on her swollen lip. She was watching him too, her gaze landing on the cut on his temple. It had stopped bleeding, but some blood had already dripped down one side of his face. She reached out slowly, and ran a thumb along his cheek bone, smearing through the lines of red. When had they gotten this close? Crane didn’t remember. One of his hands moved up her thigh and settled on her waist. His face drifted closer to hers. Ivy pressed her mouth against his.

She tasted like blood. She smelled like blood too. The coppery taste mixed in his mouth as he moved both his hands to her waist. Ivy threaded her fingers through her matted hair. She wasn’t sure whose blood was on her lips and she didn’t really care. They stayed like that for a while, just pressing kissed against each other until she broke away and rested her forehead against his. It hit her just how tired she was. Crane glanced up at her and moved one hand to the small of her back. “Sleep” she murmured against him. He hummed in agreement, the sound vibrating through both of them. Ivy reluctantly moved off of Crane’s lap and stood up. He followed, pushing himself off the couch with his good arm and letting her take his hand to lead him to her bedroom. She hit the mattress first, adjusting herself so she wasn’t sleeping on any of her injuries. In the end, she settled on her side. He curled behind her, pulling one arm over her side.

Both of them slept better than they had in a long time. 


End file.
